Twilight's Touch
by Innoculate-Yaoi
Summary: The true beginning of KH2. Roxas is having nightmares of darkness and no one knows what to do, except for the one person who could save him. Can Axel protect Roxas and his heart without waking the surpressed memories and regrets hidden in the darkness? TM


Disclaimer: I do not own any characters at all in this. They all belong in Kingdom Hearts 2, which is property of Square-Enix or whatever they are calling themselves these days. I hope you enjoy this fic, as it will be pleasant for me to write, and, hopefully, for you to read...besides, these characters love working for me. All nice and tied up in their own little cages, with me coming by every evening in those special boots and that crop...err...I mean...they run free in fields and are having the times of their lives! Yes...yes of course...

...I have to go check the locks. Excuse me.

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Chapter One: The Descending Darkness

It was always the worst when the darkness came. He could usually handle everything up to that point with moderate ease, but when the edges of night started creeping into the bright iris of the day, the seemingly-unending sunset of existence, his existence, he would feel the cold. That's when the thoughts came, with the dark dancing demons spinning and twirling just out of sight, their laughter ringing in his ears and driving the desolation deeper, twisting the bladed thoughts into the already-bleeding wound of his mind. Sometimes, on the bad nights, he couldn't even breathe with the thickening images, the half-memories, cramming themselves down his throat, trying each to be heard and spoken at the same time. Asphyxiation would blur his vision, tearing his eyes, and laughter, the crimson, bleeding laughter, would grow louder, screeching itself almost to a whistle, and he could almost hear the music, could feel the beat and wave as it washed over him, chilling him, freezing him, releasing the rest of the air in his lungs and rendering him senseless and lost. The insane laughter, beyond control, rose with the music, both spiraling out of control, rising to a fever pitch, and he could taste the tears as the rolled down his cheeks, and for every moment, he thought he was bleeding, dying.

And he would pass out.

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"And the weather is looking _quite_ lovely today in Twilight Town, with the sun in the sky, though hidden by the occasional cloud, warming the air around us and making everything _quite_ enjoyable. With a pleasing cross-bree-" Slam.

'_Stupid, brainless morning weather woman…'_ Roxas thought, sitting up in bed, letting the one sheet he had covering him fall to his waist, exposing his lithe chest and abdomen along with the top of his boxers, green emblazoned with white question marks. He rubbed the crusty sleep away from his eyes with the back of his hand, another yawn escaping from his dry throat. As he did so, the insides of his throat seemed to crack, and he felt there, his fingers tenderly feeling the fragile flesh, and he tried to swallow. His eyes squinted in pain, and he coughed, which was even worse, because then it felt like blood was coming up as well. Reaching to his nightstand, he grabbed his glass of water, took a huge swallow, and nearly coughed that up as well for all the pain it caused. He started taking slower, smoother sips, a look of disgust on his face. '_I must've been moaning and screaming in my sleep again last night…_' The water, in the gentler swallows he was taking, felt cool and caressing as he drank, soothing his aching throat. Having drained it, he set the empty glass back on his nightstand, and tried swallowing again. Still some pain, but much less-so than before.

The sound of birdsong drifted in through the panes of his window, cracked open to allow a midnight breeze in while he slept. He slowly pushed aside the curtain, getting a burst of dawns light right in his deep blue eyes. "Mm…stupid light…" Harshly, he tossed the curtains back into place, plunging his bedroom once more into a remarkable resemblance of evening's graceful twilight, the little light shifting through the shades of his windows casting small shadows everywhere, shrouding the room. "Man, how I prefer darkness to that bright--"

Darkness. That was the word that triggered the memory that he had every morning, the sluggish memory. "It was the same dream again last night, then, if my throat hurts," he said softly, falling back on his bed, his throat contracting again, and he swallowed to get it under control, to adjust to the feeling of the new tightness, hurting more and more each day. '_What was it about, this dream? Always that same never-ending darkness enveloping, consuming me…I couldn't even breathe_.' Nothing came to him, just as nothing always did, morning after morning, dream after dream. Not a flash of imagery or snippet of sound to accompany it, nothing to penetrate the suffocating blackness he knew was there, somewhere.

He thought hard, shutting his eyes, forcing his entire body to relax and recreate sleep, with his mind slowing down, same as his breathing. Trying, he could image the channels of his mind, leading back to memories and images that he knew, some he could barely place that he thought trivial at the time, and he could almost feel them. He could almost touch those blocks, those walls that seemed to have always been built and strengthened each and every day against his advances. Something was locked up in his mind, some memory of a long ago time that he just couldn't place, and it angered him. Sitting up quickly, he grabbed his pillow and threw it across the room, hitting his shut door with an unsatisfying _thump_, and he wished it would've splintered the wood, as stupid as that sounded.

Roxas sighed, and he tossed the rest of the covers off, laying back down and staring at his dark blue ceiling, mirroring his eyes, and he remembered someone, his mother maybe, saying how beautiful his eyes were, and how he should always look towards that beauty, or something like that.

"That's dumb," he said, finishing the conversation with himself. He was still sleepy, annoyed, and had just woken up.

This was not going to be a good day.

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"When is this whole thing going to start to work?"

"Patience, my friend. Patience. That is the key to this entire process."

"I've had enough of your precious patience. I did my part long ago, and I was expecting to hopefully see some results by now!"

"Then I'm sorry to dash those hopes, but this is still going to take some time…"

"Time?! We've been waiting a week already! How much longer are we going to have to keep this project on hold?"

"Until Namine believes we can begin."

"She's been preparing this for you for the better part of a year! Do you honestly believe-"

"That she has Sora's best interest at heart? Why, yes. Yes I do."

"What heart? Last I checked, Nobodies had none."

"Just trust me…what was that you're going by again?"

"…Ansem. Now tell me!"

A chuckle. "You have so very much to learn…you understand so little…"

"Stop it…"

"One who knows nothing can understand nothing."

"That was not me! You know I wasn't responsible!"

"Then believe me! I won't lead you down the path of darkness again. Please…just believe."

"…I believe. Just...hurry."

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"Roxas! Hurry up, we're going to be late!" Olette's voice forced itself through the wide open window, spreading bright morning sunshine across the scattered contents around the room. Dashing carefully around the open books, discarded clothing, and other articles that signaled a teenage boy resided in the room, the boy in name went from his dresser to his window, wearing a pair of dark grey pants that hung loose off his narrow hips, bare chest exposed, with a slight breeze ruffling his hair as he leaned out.

"I'll be down in minute! Lemme get dressed!" Roxas' voice cracked, and he coughed again, grabbing his new glass of water as he went back to his dresser to look for a shirt and downing it. That would make it feel better, he hoped. Better, but not perfect.

"Oh! Roxas! Your voice…" Olette started to yell back, but put her hand up to her mouth, biting her fingertip. She sat back down on her bicycle seat, her summer skirt rising up a bit past her thigh. Readjusting her yellow helmet so she could fix the two pigtails that held back her brown hair, she turned to her two male companions. "Did you hear his voice? It sounds awful."

Pence adjusted his ubiquitous dark red bandana, taking off his matching helmet to do so. "Yeah. What about it?" He got off his own bicycle, putting it up on its kickstand before plopping himself down on Roxas' front lawn. He laid down on his back to enjoy the morning sun, pulling down his shirt and jersey over his protuberant stomach, a half-grin on his face.

Hayner put his bike next to Pence's, straightening his vest over his obscure band t-shirt, one of which he always wore, and he too sat down on the grass in Roxas' yard, putting his green helmet on the knee of his camouflage shorts. "I think I know what it means," he said nonchalantly, turning his helmet upside-down on his knee and spinning it like a top, trying to balance it as it wheeled around.

Olette nodded. "It means he's getting worse." She cast another glance up towards the third story of the medieval-looking house, the one that marked the room that Roxas was in, and she flinched as she heard a jagged yelp, like a dog being kicked in its underbelly, signaling Roxas had most likely run into something. "He better not have ran into his door again. Think he'll tell us?"

"That he ran into the door? Most likely not. I'd only make fun of him again like last time. He had that bump in his forehead for a week." Hayner laid back on the grass with Pence, an amused smile on his face. "Good times."

"No, Hayner. She means about his voice," Pence said, shrugging as Olette looked at him. "Maybe, Olette. We can't force anything out of him."

"Oh. Yeah, he'll tell us when he's ready to, Olette." Hayner flipped himself up, tossing his helmet next to his bicycle. "Until then, there's not much else we can do besides be there for him, like friends are supposed to." With his hands free, he cupped them around his mouth, took a deep breath, and shouted, "Hey! Slowpoke! Hurry your ass up or we're gonna be late for the last day of school!"

Cocking an eyebrow, Olette looked at him, her face put off. "That shows you being there for him?"

He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Hey, he knows I'm just trying to rattle his cage. Its how I show I care." Olette just shook her head, crossing her arms, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'Boys are stupid.'

Still rubbing his hip from where he had run smack dab into the corner of his waist-high dresser, on which sat a giant oval mirror surrounded by a few empty plates and glasses along with some old textbooks, notebooks, and some models of foreign solar systems, Roxas dove back into the open drawer, tossing shirts over his shoulder that he deemed unworthy, searching for one fit for the celebration of the last day of school. After throwing the rest of them onto the floor, which was now more cluttered than ever, with almost no way to tell what color the circular carpet was that partially covered the middle of the hardwood floor, he grabbed the last one in the drawer, which barely counted as a shirt at all, and put it on. A black 'wife-beater' as Hayner so delicately called them, Roxas preferring the term muscle shirt, it narrowed with his body to his waist, hugging tight to his abdomen, and it was decorated with a single grey star, matching the color of his pants, that was embroidered on the chest. Casting a glance into his mirror to take note on how the pants really _did_ hang off his hips, Roxas contemplated a belt before shaking his head, noting that he didn't have enough time to search for one. Throwing on a pair of white and black sneakers, he grabbed his backpack, with the single strap that went across his chest, tossed it on his shoulders, and blundered his way down the two flights of stairs to the front door, holding his hip as he kicked his skateboard into his arms and opened the door. "One more comment about my ass, Hayner, and I might be convinced you actually want to touch it," Roxas said quietly, moving closer to them so as not to have to stress his voice and putting his board on the ground, his left arm crossing his body to touch his right hip delicately and demurely, his fingers running over what he knew would be a bruise later.

"Oh yes, because we all know just how much I crave it," Hayner responded, pitching his voice low and taking a step closer to Roxas, wrapping one arm around the other boy's waist, not noticing how he sucked in his breath a bit when his hip was touched. "I see you dressed up for me."

"Always," Roxas said, putting his arms around Hayner's shoulders, moving his face closer, lips slightly parted.

Pence coughed and pointed to Olette, who was staring at the two boys, her face rapt with fascination. "Not to ruin the fun, but Olette looks a bit too happy for all this to be happening…"

"Shh!" she said, throwing a kick at Pence, who had moved too close to her bike to avoid it, and thus got a butt-full of sandal. "You'll make them stop again!"

"Too late," Hayner said laughing, moving a step away from Roxas, was laughing as well. "You're too easy, Olette." He turned to Roxas, and have him a low five. "We're too good."

"Amazing is more like it. She'd hyperventilate if we ever actually kissed," Roxas mused, fiving the return and put one foot on his skateboard. "Then again, if we ever did, that really _would_ prove your sexuality, wouldn't it."

Hayner shrugged. "I'm still sticking with the asexuality, thanks a lot, punk. I just mess with you to tease Olette…OW!" He turned, rubbing the back of his head, which just felt like he had been hit with a rock. "What the hell was that?" He looked around, as if trying to spot Seifer and his gang on the deserted street in the more residential district of Twilight Town. Noting no one, he lowered his gaze, noticing a sandal with a daisy on it that looked mysteriously like the pattern on someone's dress. "I wonder who –this- darling thing could belong to…" he muttered calmly, picking it up and looking directly at Olette, who's gaze was completely diverted to the sky, her arms cross and an innocent whistle escaping from her lips. She was also missing a sandal.

"What?" she asked, batting her eyelashes. "Do you actually believe little ol' me would throw that nasty sandal at your delicate head?"

"Yes, and you'd do it with great pleasure." He tossed the sandal back to her, which she put on.

"And I'd do it again and again, just for that same pleasure. Now can we get going now, please? There's rumored to be a dessert buffet in class since we all did so well in that spelling bee last week."

"Too true," Pence agreed, hopping on his own bike and putting on his helmet. "Shall we leave then, gentlemen?" Olette let out a coughing noise. "I repeat. Gentlemen. OW!"

"Obviously, you forgot I could kick you."

Roxas rolled his eyes, and kicked off the sidewalk, starting downhill. He would've called back, but he didn't think his throat could handle it, not this early. Instead, he heard his three best friends peddling behind him, still bickering. He knew they were worried about him; Olette with her anxious glances, Hayner with no glances at all, and Pence with the constant fiddling of his bandana, which they all did every time his voice cracked. He had told them he just had sore throat the kept coming back, that was all. Nothing to worry about. No, of course he wasn't having strange dreams every night, dreams of strangulating blackness, of demonic laughter and twirling music that would put him into a near-coma every night. No, of course he wouldn't be thinking of how real that darkness felt, how it was almost tangible, as if he could reach out his hand in the middle of the night and touch it, bring it to his lips, and taste the bitterness of it on his tongue. No, of course not. He wouldn't be having dreams like that…no, no dreams of descending darkness here.

No, not at all.

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Well, I hope everyone liked it. Oo If you didn't, please, tell me why. But I plan on having at least one new chapter a week, maybe in five days or so. Depends on how college life is treating me (I'm a freshman, you see, and I have a very bad tendency to procrastinate…err…yeah…).


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